


Aesthete.

by Bulletprccf



Series: This Timeline is a Blank Canvas, an Endless Sky of Possibility. [1]
Category: Gundam 00
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, alternate timeline; after lockon loses his eye., sumeragi and feldt make cameos.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25929295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bulletprccf/pseuds/Bulletprccf
Summary: On narrowly escaping space after Lockon Stratos loses his eye, Celestial Being holes up temporarily in a safehouse.  The most antisocial of the Meisters, Tieria Erde, keeps beside that man, with emotions unnamed but artistic thoughts more articulated than Lockon ever thought possible.Tieria makes extraordinarily cute bread bunnies.
Relationships: Neil Dylandy/Tieria Erde, Tieria Erde/Lockon Stratos
Series: This Timeline is a Blank Canvas, an Endless Sky of Possibility. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889905
Comments: 15
Kudos: 19





	Aesthete.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is dedicated to all the people who make maxi boost on worth playing. thank you to:
> 
> beary, gage, irysa, holly, biggs, skye, alwyn, raud, bun, arif, johnnie, hector, and biased,
> 
> for encouraging me to never stop growing and making sure the night thoughts never become too loud.

“Art is a line around your thoughts.” – Gustav Klimt

* * *

A line of perfectly round rabbits sits innocently in the kitchen of the current safehouse. The baking sheet rests on a towel so as to not damage the countertop. A man with curly brown hair leans against the refrigerator, inhaling the scent of fresh bread. "They're very cute."

"...Thank you." Almost sheepishly, another person with delicate fingers pushes glasses up his nose as he looks away. "It's...not difficult. Their shape follows the Fibonacci spiral, which is mathematically and aesthetically pleasing…"

The brunet man, Lockon Stratos, chuckles. "But how many people could perfectly make at least a dozen of these little guys? It's like magic." He pokes one of the rolls gently, as if expecting it to vanish in front of him.

"It's just math, not magic." The owner of those glasses and delicate fingers comes to stand next to Lockon -- Tieria Erde is his name. "The curve is made with areas calculated from a Fibonacci sequence. You only need to calculate the spiral from a horizontal plane and then use the resulting radii to determine how wide to craft the bodies -- what's so funny?"

Turquoise eye glitters with a soft kind of amusement. "Nothing -- you're just charming, attributing your art to math rather than your own merit. Most people hate math -- and it's unlike you to be this humble."

Tieria purses his lips. "Art _is_ math, given shape and color. Every noteworthy canvas has hues that reflect pleasing wavelengths of light, arranged in deliberate ratios determined via experimental processes of previous artists. How many shades an image has is intentional, to convey tone, emotion, and narrative. Analyzing well-received pieces provides data to create new, popular art."

Lockon hums. “It’s that simple to you?”

“Formulas make up everything. Equations are beautiful in their finite natures, while inequalities create limitless potential. If you know what formulas to use, you can make anything appealing.”

Trailing a finger over the rabbit in front of him, Lockon blinks thoughtfully. “You know...I always see you well put-together. Your clothes are usually in lighter colors, and I never see your hair mussed. And these bunnies...do you like cute things, Tieria?”

A soft flush creeps up beneath round glasses. “It is...unbecoming of a Gundam Meister to be fond of cute things.”

Lips quirk at the denial, as if amused that this person who waxes poetic about art as a form of mathematics tries so hard to be a perfect example of VEDA’s chosen ( he is so fond of that supercomputer who is both God and Mother ). “It’s also unbecoming of Meisters to show weakness, but…” He touches the covering over his eye. “You and I seem to be showing each other that in spades. Besides…” The glance down is stolen, as if unsure if allowed to look at the other man in this moment. “It’s only human to show weakness to those you trust.”

Wide eyes look up sharply -- considering, _calculating_. “Lockon...do you know about me?” The voice that was so warm, like bread straight from the oven, laces with unease, throwing up a shield against the unknown answer.

Lockon turns toward Tieria, the hand that touched both bread and cloth cupping a pensive jaw. While stroking a gently curving cheek, his brow softens. “I know that you feel more responsibility for our mission than anyone and take every failure as a personal burden. I know that you prefer pastels but will tell Ian to paint Virtue in neutral colors to seem more professional. I know that you feel more than you like to admit, and you like cute, round things.” He pauses, searching his companion’s slack-mouthed expression. Running a thumb over parted lips ( soft, but the slightest bit sticky -- Tieria wears chapstick? ), the taller man debates the options that have been weighing on his mind. Tieria _is_ pretty; anyone would have to be a fool to not notice: the violet-haired Meister trims his own hair with a microscopic precision, has a better skincare routine than Sumeragi Lee Noriega, and perfectly cuts and glosses his fingernails. But...is noticing someone’s effort worth the tradeoff? Could he value Tieria’s obvious, inexperienced affections higher than his own burning vengeance? He could die, and Tieria -- Tieria, who is emotionally unstable after losing VEDA, who is so guilty over Lockon’s eye, who probably wouldn’t ever put a name to any of his own feelings -- would likely not hesitate to follow after him.

But...none of them are supposed to survive anyway, according to the overarching _plan_. Tieria has probably been prepared to die for their mission since the beginning.

He swallows dryly. Tongue flickers out to wet his lips, and he must be hesitating too much, because a crease forms between Tieria’s eyebrows. However...he doesn’t speak, as if knowing Lockon isn’t finished sorting out his own words.

“...I know I like you.”

Because yes, he does. And while Neil Dylandy may subsist on revenge, he decides that Lockon Stratos wants something more.

His thumb slips into the other pilot’s mouth purely by accident, and for a moment it closes around him on instinct.

Claret eyes blink in recognition, and Tieria jerks back, placing a hand on the other’s green shirt. It’s soft, having been washed too many times. Fingers curl, fighting back a tremble. He’s not a fool -- it’s obvious that Lockon _does_ know and is trying to convey that it doesn’t matter.

Except it does. “I...I think I like you, too.” Those tentative fingers move to press against Lockon’s mouth. “But we...we aren’t the same. I…” Wavering voice drops to a whisper. “Biologically...I’m not human, Lockon. I cannot...give you things expected of a human relationship.”

Hands, large and steadier than they have any right to be, run over arms and shoulders opposite. “And what am I expecting of you?”

“...Someone who can grow old with you, who can give you sexual intimacy. My body...either of these -- I can’t -- ”

“-- And what if I just want someone to spend my time with, someone who rants about numbers and art, someone to watch my back to make sure I don’t lose another eye?” The words tumble out, pushing away both the cynical amusement at the thought of _growing old_ and the stunned relief that he _literally can’t_ degrade into extorting Tieria for physical pleasure. “What if I don’t mind you never changing, because you’re absolutely beautiful to look at? What if I’d just prefer to hold onto you, because I enjoy being by your side?”

It is not frequently that Tieria Erde is shocked into silence, but Lockon Stratos is a man of opportunity, which he uses to cup his jaw and tilt his head up.

Tieria uses kiwi-flavored chapstick. His lips are, as expected, soft and unsure -- nervous. Curious fingers flit under Lockon’s ear --

“Hey now,” he mumbles with an awkward snort. “That tickles.”

“Ah -- I’m sorry.”

A corner of a now-glossed mouth edges upward. The apology had been hastily thrown out, almost as an afterthought. The shorter man is pondering, lost in his own musing. “Do you have an equation for that kiss, too?”

“No,” he murmurs. “It’s closer to an inequality. Equations are static, but this…” Pausing for a moment, he glances up -- his expression could be called coy, actually. “I require more data.”

Lockon breaks into a wide grin and leans down again.

“-- Tieria, are you still in here? We’re about to have our strategy meeti -- oh.” Sumeragi Lee Noriega leans into the kitchen, eyebrows raised at the sight before her, but neither Meister seems inclined to move.

Conversely, the taller man slides an arm possessively around the other. His lone eye twinkles mischievously. “We’ll be there in a minute, Miss Sumeragi.”

She smiles, noting Tieria’s quietude and the tray of bunnies behind him. “Take your time. I haven’t found Setsuna or Allelujah yet.” And she leaves without any fuss.

“...Are you okay with people knowing about this? I get the feeling Miss Sumeragi isn’t the type to gossip, but if Chris finds out…”

“Christina Sierra is of no consequence to me.” The words are spoken without malice, but as usual, Virtue’s pilot is abruptly blunt.

Lockon chuckles. “Okay then.” And simply because he can, he fits Tieria against him and rests his cheek against smooth violet hair. “Say, Tieria...how old are you? You don’t look any older than sixteen, but I figure you’re probably older than Setsuna.”

“...This body has existed for nineteen years, but I’m unsure if that is an accurate reflection of my ‘age.’ I have...always existed within VEDA, even if I wasn’t conscious of it.” Hesitantly, arms wrapped in yellow sleeves wind around the sniper. “...Lockon, do you really think I’m beautiful?”

“Hmmm…” Lips press idly on the head against which they rest. “Put it this way: to me, human shapes are works of art. You’re made of sloping lines and an aesthetically pleasing palette to me. The effort you put into your appearance is cute. Though,” he frowns, “if you’re fond of light colors, why request your flight suit to be purple?”

“...Darker colors are more professional and mature.”

“Huh. Well, I figured it’d be something like that.” Untangling himself from his chosen partner, the Dynames pilot pokes the now-cool tray of bread. “Come on. We can’t be late to the meeting; that’ll never do. Are these little guys coming with us?”

Pulling on his typical pink sweater, Tieria nods. “I doubt many of us have eaten properly, after that narrow escape.”

And so both trays of bunnies attend the Celestial Being strategy meeting, as well.

As they leave the kitchen, Tieria catches Lockon’s critical gaze on him. “What?”

“Ah, no. I was just thinking...your eyes are a pretty hue. I think you’d look good in red.”

The complimented pilot doesn’t respond, but a pleased sort of blush makes itself vaguely known.

( They do make it to the meeting on schedule, and at times during it, Feldt Grace swears she sees their intertwined pinkies. They, like the delicious rabbit bread, are super cute, she decides. )

**Author's Note:**

> the popular female figure of tieria was a huge inspiration to this, because i've made the joke before that the butt on that figure is a perfect quadratic curve.  
>   
> [this is me.](https://i.kym-cdn.com/entries/icons/facebook/000/029/826/2wxmbd.jpg)


End file.
